KEVIN MCCALLUM: Overwritten criticism of Rabada short of social understanding

Kagiso Rabada’s greatest sin in his recreational drug case has quickly been warped and twisted from being tainted as “unclean” for either having a puff or a sniff to the small nonsense of “what exactly did he take?”.

Of the four substances, I think we can safely rule out MDMA and heroin. Of the former, no-one goes to raves any more do they — though a report claims that 2.1-million people in the US used ecstasy in 2023, but, then again, they also voted for Donald Trump and love line dancing. As for heroin, Rabada is many things but Rent Boy from Trainspotting he certainly is not.

That said, an adapted version of the Trainspotting monologue would make a great comeback speech for Rabada when he rocks up at his first press conference to face questions. 

“Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose recreational drugs and wondering who the f*ck you are on a Sunday morning. 

“Choose rotting away at the end of it all, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, f*cked up journalists spawned to replace your self-esteem. Choose your future. Choose life … But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got cricket?”

Or maybe not. 

The criticism of Rabada has been overwrought and overwritten, a bit like this column, if I’m a bit honest. The overwritten bit, that is.

A column by Khanyiso Tshwaku on News24 says Rabada is “the face of black cricketing excellence, a role model, a human being everyone wants to take a selfie with … and that comes with expectations of how one should conduct themselves off the field. It’s a social contract that he signed, he must live with and, while he’s a professional sportsman and postcareer, will be judged on.”

From my flirtation with sociology at university, I learnt that all human beings have “signed” social contracts. It’s the basis of society, an agreement with other beings that we will not kill, steal or hate, and respect boundaries and each other.

The social contract is a surrender of some freedoms to a political or ruling body for the greater good. It creates order and stops us being our base selves — murderous, warmongering rapists and plunderers. The social contract is a pledge to respect the dignity and rights of others.

Rabada’s social contract is no more or less than this. He either smoked or snorted something. I spoke to Khalid Galant, CEO of the SA Institute for Drug-Free Sport (Saids), on Wednesday and he said it was neither in his remit nor his right to say which of the four “substances of abuse” Rabada had taken. He said it was up to the athlete to do that himself. That is Saids’ social contract with athletes and sport.

We spoke about dagga and THC, and how it is widely legal in SA now, but still on the banned list. Cricket writer and broadcaster Neil Manthorp quoted Galant: “It is not about shaming athletes; it is about catching those attempting to gain an unfair advantage.

“Recreational drugs are on the banned list because they go against the spirit of sport. They might be associated more with stupidity and naiveté rather than cheating … society is far more tolerant of binge-drinking and drunkenness in sport, which doesn’t carry the same stigma.” 

When Herschelle Gibbs admitted that he was badly hungover after a big night before scoring 175 in the 438 match at the Wanderers in 2006, it was received with a giggle. Good old Hersch, hey? He was out until the wee hours and almost missed the team bus, but then went on the tonk and couldn’t miss. What social contract, you say?

What did Rabada take? Why did he take it? For the same reason Gibbs went on the tear, for a release from the pressure and the madness that being a professional athlete brings.

Rabada is, in the end, a 29-year-old man in the glare of the world outside. Sometimes you just don’t want to choose that life. Sometimes you just want a little silliness and numbness. Sometimes you just want to choose something else. Why? Sometimes there are no reasons.